Chapter Summary: War is reduced, comes out into the world, and is kept under Control.

War had faint memories of her time in hell. Of Death's overwhelming pressure as it wiped out the scavengers and other weaker devils trying to benefit from the horsemen's crusade. Of Control and Famine leading their armies, driving back their enemies in waves of clashing bodies. Of her children forming her vanguard, making the first blows before her swords cleaved apart Chainsaw's scattered allies.

She watched as the ICBM Devil and Nuclear Weapons Devil took point, blowing up Chainsaw Man's arms and making him stumble backwards. With an opening created, War sprinted ahead, her sword held overhead to finally take the Hero of Hell's head, only for its damn chainsaw horn to catch her attack. A swift turning of its neck was enough to throw her aside.

She hastily gathered her bearings, picking up one of her dropped blades and turned to face her opponent, finding its fanged maw chewing away at one of her children. Nuclear Weapons screamed, calling out for someone, anyone, to save it, its eyes locking with Yoru's as its final cry died in its throat—then, swallowed into the belly of the beast.

She remembered how her throat had been torn ragged as she sprinted at Chainsaw Man, screaming at him to spit Nuclear Weapons up. How her blade maneuvered to slice at his elbows, disarming him only briefly before they regrew. How the other devils she led threw themselves into the fray to provide her with more openings.

Then, how those openings became less and less frequent. As she felt Death continuing to loom over the battlefield… And how the stench of Control and Famine were long gone.

In her moment of distraction, she felt Chainsaw Man's massive body tackle her, biting out chunks from her torso as she tried to push him off, feeling his chainsaw horn drag across her face, and, after nearly losing an arm in that bottomless gullet of his, she got to her feet, running with the last remnants of her dignity.

She cried at her frustration; of Control and Famine leaving her for dead, Death continuing to sit back and do no more than the bare minimum, her children consumed, and her pride shattered as she looked over her shoulder as Chainsaw Man stood where she last left him. His blood-soaked form remained in the middle of the battlefield, not bothering to give her solace in killing her.


She didn't know how far she ran, but she knew she spent a long time doing so as her feet, for once, finally ached. How she finally noticed the grasses of hell between her toes, the fragments of human things, embedded into the dirt, leaving cuts in her soles. She avoided other devils in her continued escape, her strength no longer comparable before she had been left for dead.

Eventually, she found a door atop a grassy knoll. An easily accessible entrance to Earth was an uncommon sight in hell, but it meant recent mass bloodshed.

She took her chances with whatever other devil awaited her on the other side.


War stepped into the ruins of some massive concrete building, immediately shielding her unclothed body as a cold gust ripped past her. Back in hell, she could choke the life out of the Iceberg or Volcano Devils without blinking an eye, but now she shivered like the humans around her.

Well, if they were alive. She glanced around, finding bodies crushed under rubble, puddles of blood, guts, and gnashed-up body parts, and others whose heads had been simply popped, the backs of their skulls having splattered against the walls behind them. For once, a smile graced War's face; this was her beloved Gun's handiwork.

She moved to a body slumped against a desk, beginning to pull off every little article of clothing if she was going to travel in this weather.

Fully-dressed, she passed by a broken mirror, finding her pilfered clothes unappealing. She leaned in closer, seeing her own face as she brought her fingers under her eyes, dragging along the scars now criss-crossing her face.


The clothes did little to combat the cold, but she appreciated not have the cutting feel of the wind against her bare skin. The snow crunched under her feet, as she stepped awkwardly over broken concrete and ripped-up asphalt.

She heard distant groans and cries, but paid them no mind.

War passed by a car, its door ripped off by falling rubble, and, huddled in the passenger seat, was a child. Their knees were pulled tight, while they laid their forehead against their knees.

She must have been staring for too long as the child then glanced up, meeting her eyes. She moved to continue walking, only for said child to climb out of the ruined sedan, running on tired legs in her direction. "W-wait, miss!"

War stopped in her place, letting the child move in close, whose head barely reached her waist. "Pl-please, please…" they muttered in-between breaths, bending over at the waist in exhaustion, before glancing up at her. "Can you please… Help me find my mom and dad, miss?"

She lived long enough to learn the tongues of man, and so she kneeled down to meet the child's eyes. "They might be dead, child," she said bluntly.

"I know they're alive!" they said stubbornly, their eyes wet as they slapped their fists against their thighs. "I was running with them before that big devil broke the bridge…"

War looked past the child's shoulders, finding a concrete overpass collapsed, as cars and more bodies were crushed underneath.

"And how did you get split up?"

The child stared down at their shoes. "I... I tripped..."

"And where were they going?" she asked, looking at the child's face again.

"They said we were going to an e-vack station," they answered, sniffling as they wiped their nose with their sleeve. "But the bridge is blocking the way!"

"But you know where it is?" She watched them pause, then give a slow nod.

"Mom said it was at the park…"

"Then we'll find another way around the… bridge. You can show me where this evac station is."

"O-okay, miss," they said, before holding out their hand. War stared on, not knowing what to do. "I don't wanna get lost, so please hold my hand…"

She looked on for a few minutes before slowly grabbing the child's small hand. "I'll… hold your hand," she said, beginning to lead the child as they left the overpass behind. She might be able to find where Gun may have gone off to...


An older man and a younger woman walked past lines of tents, equal parts shelter, medical, and logistics as people of all kinds hastily shuffled around—and cleared the way as they saw the two stepping forward with purpose.

"Fukuoka's head of division 3 will be there to help coordinate recovery operations," the woman said, as she looked ahead towards their destination. "Did you finally get a call regarding Kyoto's head of division 3? Will he be joining us?"

The man shook his head. "He won't be making it, sadly," he said, bringing a hand to one of the tent's flaps and letting his partner step in ahead of him.

The two entered the warm interior of the hastily-pitched tent, as a map of Japan had been laid on the table, taped to a slab of cork as pins stuck out of it. Sapporo's head of division 1 stabbed more in to further illustrate a line.

"We currently don't know if the Gun Devil had passed through the Kuril Islands," he said, pulling his body back as his hand moved to grab a styrofoam cup full of coffee. "We're also waiting on the current status of Mount Moiwa just south of here. Good to see you two, by the way."

"This isn't where it made landfall, Inui?" the head of Tokyo's division 4 asked as he stepped closer, followed by his aide.

"No, it didn't—" Inui was cut off by his Fukuoka counterpart. "You brought along a sidekick, Akasaka?" she said, leaning to get a better look at the young woman standing to the older man's side, while Inui stepped back, grumbling to himself.

"I'm planning on retiring in a few years, Mitsuoka," the Tokyo division head—Akasaka—grunted out, his age and the cold affecting his voice. "She's taking over my position after I leave, so I figured she may as well see what it's like to do post-devil disaster operations. Say hi to everyone."

The woman with Akasaka stepped forward, bowing her head briefly, her braid dangling all the while. "It's nice to meet you all," she said, holding out a hand as it poked out from her coat's black sleeve. "I'm Makima."

"Ooh, a young'un! And very friendly!" Mitsuoka said, as she eagerly shook Makima's hand. "Definitely need more like you, especially since we just lost… You know…"

"Kyoto did get hit badly," Akasaka said, crossing his arms. "I got a call at the headquarters here; it's supposed to be just as bad… I don't think Kubo would have seen it coming."

"Twenty-six seconds feels like way too much time while the Gun Devil passed over Japan. Kyoto will miss a good man like him," Inui stated, taking another sip before glancing back at his fellows. "What's the situation even look like for you guys?"

"Didn't hit us anywhere to this degree, thankfully," the Fukuoka division head answered, a tad too cheerfully considering the situation around them.

"I'll let you speak, Makima," the Tokyo division head said, briefly putting his hand between the woman's shoulders to urge her to step further.

"Thank you, Akasaka," she said, bowing her head towards him. "Several districts were severely affected in Tokyo: Akihabara, Odaiba, Shibuya, and Shinjuku, in particular."

"Thorough… Do you already have estimates?" the Sapporo division head asked, his brows lifted in curiosity.

"We believe about four-thousand deaths in those four districts alone," she answered promptly, her eyes glancing between Inui and Matsuoka. "We're also currently looking into individual instances in other districts, where the Gun Devil had fired a single bullet towards the victims. Then, of course, the loss of infrastructure with the current weather may cause the toll to climb further. It may be closer to five-thousand, possibly six-thousand by the time Akasaka and I get back."

Mitsuoka let out a low whistle in response. "I didn't get an estimate before I left, but…"

"You did have to leave earlier than we did," Makima said, glancing at the older woman. "I'm sure you'll get estimates soon."

"Not sure if I want to see those…"

Another Public Safety worker leaned in towards Inui, whispering something into his ear. "Sorry, folks. An update on Mount Moiwa just came up."

"It needs your presence?" Matsuoka asked, watching as Inui pulled on a thicker coat.

"Evacuees from around the ski resort just became trapped by an avalanche," he said, as he mouthed an affirmative at another aide, who ran off towards a gathering of parked trucks. "I can trust you three to handle Sapporo?"

"You can leave it to us," Makima said in an even cadence, giving another bow as the Sapporo division head began to depart. "Matsuoka, can you handle the logistics?"

"Aw, c'mon, Makima! Handing me the hard work?"

Makima's smile flexed, as if making an attempt to look amused. "Unless you would prefer to speak with survivors and ease all of their concerns?"

The Fukuoka division head sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth. "Okay, I'll lead logistics. You'll have smooth supply lines before midnight, I swear."

"Thank you." Makima made another polite bow before turning to her superior officer. "Akasaka."

"Don't worry, I can work with the roads and train lines," he said, as he gave the young woman a pat on the shoulder. "Don't forget about your other assignment, too."

She gave a deep nod to Akasaka. "I won't."


A stray gust caught her braid as Makima walked past an endless number of near-identical tents. She made sure to give some spiel of "Public Safety currently working its hardest" whenever a panicked survivor ran up to her, if only to get them to release her shoulders. She made sure to command a nearby worker to hand them a day ration pack, regardless of whether they already got one earlier in the morning.

As she walked further through the camp, Makima caught sight of a worried couple talking to one another, who then caught sight of her. The man stepped out, holding his hand up as to catch her attention. "Excuse me, miss—"

"Mom! Dad!"

The man turned around to find a young child sprint out from between the tents, throwing themselves at the woman's—their mother's—legs. Delighted cries escaped the adults' mouths, as the man ran back, taking his wife and child into a hug.

"We were so worried!" the woman cried, pressing a kiss to the child's cheek. "Did you come here by yourself?"

"No, that nice lady helped me!" the child exclaimed, pointing back to where she came from. Makima's eyes moved to glance to a woman in ill-fitting clothes, carrying the scent of…

Oh. She was staring at War. Or, more precisely, War was staring at her.

Before War could throw herself at her sister, to wrap her hands around that stupid pencil neck of hers, she was swarmed by the happy family, peppering her with cries of appreciation.

"We can't thank you enough, ma'am!" the woman said, holding her hands against the devil's shoulders.

"Th-there's something I need to—!"

"We can't ever repay you for bringing our child back to us, miss!" the man said, as he hefted the young child in his arms, who gave a toothy smile. War could only glower, as her hands balled into fists at her sides.

"Stop calling me that!"

As much as Makima appreciated seeing her sister backed into a corner by an assault of admiration, she would rather not chance aggravated assault—at least, not against civilians. "I'm sorry, you three, but I must speak with this…" She gave a pointed glance towards War. "Nice woman."

"R-right, of course," the woman said, taking a step back, along with the man. Once they moved closer to one of the tents, Makima overheard one of them speak to the child. "You must be so hungry, Asa..."

War took a step forward and gave Makima a glare, glancing up at the taller woman. "You."

"Me," she replied, with a deliberate hint of playfulness in her voice. "How are you, sister?"

"You set me up…!" she said, throwing her fist at the Control Devil, who promptly caught her hand.

"Oh, look at that," Makima muttered, glancing at how War's fist shook, trying to fight her grasp. "Never thought I could best you in this department."

War's anger turned to anxiousness as she pulled her hand away, her body shaking as she realized how much lesser her own strength was now, if Control could stop her punch.

"I think it's best if you came with me," Makima said, tilting her head slightly as she looked at her sister, watching as she silently relented.


"You cannot call yourself 'War', War."

She watched as Control—no, Makima, yanked the paper away from her, a long line of ink being scratched into it. "War is my name," she said with palpable bitterness, her teeth gritted as she glared at her sister. "What else would I call myself?"

"No human would call themselves such an inane thing," Makima returned, observing the way War's eye twitched. Annoyance? No, that was her default mood when around her fellow horsemen; this had to be anger. "You're not Famine; think of something better."

She slid over another clean form, waiting as War contemplated her name. Eventually, she penned down some katakana: "Yoru."

"Oh, such a pretty name," Makima remarked, earning a glare from the re-christened War Devil.

"Shut up."

"I'm serious," she said, though her tone neither betrayed sincerity nor sarcasm. "You could read it as 'night'. Though, not that many parents in this country would name their child that."

Yoru gave Makima a snarl. "Well, you have my name. Am I done?"

"Far from it," she said, as she leant over the table, tapping her finger below the filled-in name line. "You'll need to fill out the rest of your identification form."

"I don't care about being identified!" Yoru retorted, slamming the pen onto the table. "I am War! The manifestation of humankind's self-destructive tendencies! I am why they kneel and cry for their children as they waste their lives in the great battlefields of their own making!"

Makima bit back the urge to scoff as the reduced War Devil tried to proclaim her lost grandeur. "If things had gone differently, we wouldn't even be talking," she said, letting her head tilt one way as she pretended to look at the paper under Yoru's hand. "And mankind would be all the better for it."

"Their lust for conflict is inevitable… It's why I survived—and why I will reclaim what I have lost from Chainsaw Man."

"And you won't be able to stand before him and lift a finger in defiance if you're immediately sussed out as a devil, and sealed in a concrete box," Makima said, as she tapped the paper once more, this time with more force. "Fill out the form."

Yoru's frown grew deeper as she stared daggers back at the Control Devil before turning her attention back to the form, filling out what she could. Annoyingly, Makima would chime in about which parts she didn't need to do, what Public Safety and the Japanese government would process on their end.

She watched as War penned down 167.5 cm as her height, the same as Makima's. Though, considering how she had to glance down at Yoru while they were in the camp…

She chose to bite back her laughter rather than earn more of her sister's fury.

"You'll have to fill out more of these later on," Makima said, as she took the completed form from Yoru. "Not for yourself, of course, but for those who come into your care; whether their records were destroyed, can't be verified, so on. You can send them straight to municipal services once you're set up."

"I never agreed to take in children," Yoru muttered, continuing to glare from across the table. "You don't get to dictate what I'm supposed to do."

Still, Makima's expression didn't change. "I can," she said simply, staring back as though waiting for one or the other to blink, watching her sister's eyes gradually narrow, her jaw clenched tightly, and how she took in sharp breaths through her nose. "I was assigned the task of finding someone to run an orphanage in Tokyo, and I just so happened to come across someone who needed new identification; why not kill two birds with one stone?"

"So you can keep an eye on me, Control?!" Yoru spat, venom beginning to taint her voice, droplets of saliva spraying against the other woman as it pock-marked her dress shirt and skin.

Makima's expression did not err, continuing to hold her confident smile and intense gaze at the furious Horseman, who was all but foaming at the mouth at this point. "Oh, I don't think I need to, not in your reduced state," she said coolly, tapping the paper between them. "Tokyo's municipal services will do that job for me…" She waited for Yoru's lips to part, ready to throw a retort without a second thought as she always had, before choosing to continue. "After all, humans wouldn't think so kindly of an orphanage that can't take care of its children."

Fighting the urge to let her smile grow bigger, Makima delighted at seeing her sister's expression turn more sour, her shoulders tense and shaking; if she had to guess, Yoru was torn between screaming at the devil sitting across from her or throwing herself over the table and getting physical. "I'd suggest you do something about that anger, lest you direct it at some innocent child and have to be put down."

"I'll only direct it at Chainsaw Man," she growled, her hands balling into white-knuckled fists under the table. "And at you…" Her scowl grew more as that faint smile on Makima's face didn't change.

"I wouldn't waste my time, if I were you."


After being handed a temporary ID on printed paper, she joined Makima and her entourage on the train headed to Tokyo. She had wanted to sit as far away from her sister as possible, ignoring how the seats were assigned, but the number of evacuees getting out of Sapporo had meant that she was stuck sitting next to the one person she did not want to be near.

She also didn't enjoy how Makima offered to hand-feed her some of her own packed lunch. Yoru, and even the other Public Safety workers, sat in uncomfortable silence as a piece of handmade norimaki was lifted to her mouth. An awkward 8-hour trip, all while the other riders silently mourned their lost loved ones or their destroyed lives, or prayed for their continued survival, if they weren't already audibly sobbing and crying.

Yoru had barely registered how they had to transfer to another train to continue their journey, and before she knew it they were in Tokyo, the snowfall much lighter than it had been in Hokkaido prefecture. She watched as Makima waved her entourage off before being guided to a black car. She glanced over at her sister, seeing her stare forward at the back of the driver's seat as they traveled to the orphanage.

"It'll be about a week by the time the first children arrive, but municipal services should be finished with the renovations before then," Makima started, going through her mental agenda as she stepped to the side, letting Yoru step out in front of the run-down orphanagae. "Then, after that, upkeep will be entirely your discretion."

She guided War through the facilities, as if it wasn't the first time she'd been there, and glossed over the aging and soon-to-be-replaced infrastructure, like brass knobs thick with corrosion or the ancient steel-walled fridges.

Eventually they stepped into the courtyard, as moonlight filtered through the covering overgrowth. "If you have any concerns, please feel free to send them to Public Safety," Makima said, as she turned to face Yoru—

"Branch axe."

A wooden axehead found itself lodged into the side of Makima's neck, spurts of blood escaping the deep gouge—then, more gushing out in an even crimson flow as Yoru pulled the weapon back out to then make another swing. This second attack cleaved straight through the Control Devil's spinal column, leaving her head dangling by a thin flap of skin and shredded muscle.

With a foot planted against Makima's midsection, Yoru kicked her leg out, sending the former tumbling to the ground as that last bit of flesh tore, sending a head rolling across the ground and leaving a trail of blood. More pooled at the ragged stump protruding from between her shoulders.

"Told you," she muttered, as she dropped the weapon near the body as it shattered into hundreds of splinters and a few dead leaves. Her satisfaction hadn't settled in as she watched Control's body twitch, as the arms planted palms against the ground to lift itself. "What—"

Her eyes moved to Makima's head, which stared back emptily, but blinked away, watching its corresponding body stumble in its direction. It bent over at the waist, picking up the severed head before planting it onto the neck. Even with the folded—and, now, bloodied—collar blocking her view of it, Yoru could tell from how the eyes darted around that her sister's head was stitching itself back onto her body.

"Impossible," Yoru said, as she backed away, her body hitting nearby railing. "I took off your head. You shouldn't be walking."

Makima's body turned towards the other devil, her head regaining that polite expression she liked to give. "It was a good attempt, Yoru," she said, letting her hands come together, her fingers interlocking. "Even weakened, that was a decent weapon. Maybe work on the swing."

"H-how…?"

Her head tilted quizzically. "'How', I wonder…" Makima returned, looking at Yoru with her piercing stare. "Anything you do with the aim of hurting or killing me is transferred to a random citizen of this country… If all you want to do is attack me, then, like I said, you're wasting your time." A distant beep from a car rang out as the Control Devil turned her attention away from the War Devil.

Yoru stared on as she watched Makima kneel down, swishing her hand through the puddle of blood below her as she messily applied it to more of her shirt, finishing just as the driver came running into the orphanage's courtyard.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" he said, his breathing heavy from having bolted straight from the car. "I heard a commotion, and—"

"Just a devil hiding here," she said in a calm cadence, as she took out a handkerchief, cleaning off the blood that she had just intentionally gotten onto her own fingers. The driver glanced around for the devil's body, but, "The body dissipated; it must've been a Gas or Carbon Dioxide Devil."

"R-right, of course," he returned, trying to make himself relax. "I'll just call for clean-up then. The body retrieval teams could use the break today."

"I would appreciate it if you did that, thank you," she said, not bothering to look as he ran back towards the car.

Yoru continued to look on in horror, after Makima pulled her own head back onto her shoulders, her own death negated by her contract as some poor unknowing soul was snuffed out tonight. How she didn't hesitate to spin this as some random attack, too.

And how readily the driver had accepted her reasoning.

Makima's head tilted up to look at Yoru, their eyes glued to one another's, and the War Devil could see that subtle smile grow bigger.


Yoru's eyes looked at the slightly discolored patch of concrete in the courtyard, matching with her memory of Control's blood spilt that autumn evening long ago. She sighed, letting her body lean against her broom as she watched the children run after one another as they played. Soon, one tripped, and she instinctively stepped forward to check on them only for the child to get back up and continue running.

Then, Reze came out, carrying a basket of freshly-dried laundry, flashing Yoru a big grin as she moved to the residential wing of the orphanage, only to be nearly bowled over as a wave of orphans burst through the door.

"Miss Yoru, Miss Reze!" the oldest of the group cried out, as they stumbled, their hand clutched to their thigh as blood stained their pants.

"Everyone, get to the safe room," she said, moving the injured child into the hands of another of the older orphans, to whom she turned her attention towards. "Press a towel against their leg, as hard as you can."

"Go with the kids, I can fight these devils," Reze said, as she instinctively reached for the pin at her neck, only to have her arm yanked down. "Yoru—"

"You'll give the kids hearing damage," she said, looking at the Russian.

Reze rolled her eyes at the older woman. "Fine, but if those devils get into the safe room, I'll have no choice but to transform, you know?"

"Then I'll just have to kill them all myself," she said, watching the last child disappear behind the door as her grip on the broom tightened. "Broom halberd."

Author's Notes: I was gonna make this another interlude a la Chapter 5, as I thought this wasn't going to move the plot forward much, but working out Yoru's own situation ended up being its own development.

The Gun Devil incident takes place 13 years before the story, and while it's never stated when exactly Makima joins Public Safety, I figured I should have her around while Yoru comes into the world.

Don't expect any more with the OC division heads here; I didn't even give them proper descriptions. I got lazy there.

Also, Chapter 7 will be a direct follow-up with an attack on the orphanage. While I have previously detailed minor descriptions of gore in past chapters, the next one will see it ramped up (also this chapter, a little bit); I'll need to update the tags accordingly. I want to avoid the death of children, as that's something I'm uncomfortable describing unless it's absolutely necessary, so we'll just have a Yoru-focused devil murderfest.

Finally, while they said I didn't need their permission to implement the idea of the attack, I would still like to thank the AO3 user Gioseph.